Ashes on a Flame
by M. Rhae
Summary: SPOILER FOR PETALS ON THE WIND. What if Bart Winslow didn't die in that Christmas fire? Who would he be with, and what would he do? An alternate look into the lives of Corrine, Cathy, Bart Sr., and Bart Jr. Corrine's POV. In-progress.
1. Ablaze

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dollanganger saga.**

 **WARNING: Spoiler if you haven't finished reading/watching Petals on the Wind.**

 **A/N:** Hi there! Thank you for checking out my story. I'm clearly a big fan of the Dollanganger saga, and I've always wondered what could have happened if Bart hadn't died in the fire. Would he have stayed with Corrine? Ran off with Cathy? Found a way to balance the two? I'm also a big Corrine fan, so I wanted to write about the situation from her POV and share some of the emotions I'm sure she had.

So, without further ado, here's the start of my story, so please read, enjoy, and review! This will be a multi-chapter fic, so if you have any suggestions, please let me know and I'll think them over! :)

 **\- M. Rhae**

* * *

 **Ashes on a Flame**

 **1**

 **Ablaze**

She screamed just then, her voice wild, high-pitched, and completely uncontrolled. Never had Corrine ever screamed like that. From an early age, she had been taught to be completely prim and proper. Her voice was to always be soft and musical, and she was never to scream and shout like an uncouth barbarian.

But at that moment, she _was_ a barbarian. Her entire _life_ had been barbaric. There stood her daughter, her beautiful, spiteful daughter, and there stood her handsome, unfaithful husband. Oh, how she loved him, her powerful attorney! They'd been in love from the moment they first laid eyes on each other all that time ago, and his heart rang true to her still. She _knew_ that it did! They were _made_ for each other!

Of course Corrine had noticed Bart's change of behavior, but she never thought the explanation would be something as complex as this. She never thought Cathy would follow them to Virginia with the sole intention of inflicting as much pain as humanly possible on the woman who had given birth to her; she never thought it possible for her daughter to be filled with such _hatred_ for her. Vaguely, Corrine wondered how many times Bart had slept with Cathy when she was away on one of her trips, and she wondered how long Cathy had held the pregnancy against him. More importantly, she wondered how Cathy could possibly subject an unborn child to this morally corrupt drama, and she wondered how she could possibly look at the child as both her grandson and her step-son.

It was simply all too much. Had Corrine raised her own child to be so vindictive and malicious? Where had she gone wrong? Hadn't she hugged and kissed Cathy enough when she was a baby? Hadn't she given her everything money could buy? The very thought of this betrayal pained her beyond feeling, but in the end, Corrine knew where she _had_ gone wrong, though she also knew that she couldn't have helped it.

Without thinking, without feeling, Corrine ran – all the way up the stairs in the North Wing. She felt her heart beating faster and harder in her chest, and she saw the red edges of her dress fly through the air with each stride. But she didn't care, and she didn't stop until she reached that small, dimmed bedroom with the adjoining bath and the stairway closet that led to the attic.

Memories washed over her, threatening to consume her, but Corrine took a deep breath and turned the knob, now unlocked and open as no one else had use for that old, wretched room.

Dank air greeted her, and she closed her eyes, pretending to see her four Dresdon Dolls smiling up at her. She could almost hear Cory's gleeful cry of "Momma" and could almost feel Carrie's arms wrapping around her waist, and if she focused hard enough, she could almost certainly remember the feeling of raw, unwavering love pouring through her heart as she gazed down at her babies.

Up in the attic, those paper flowers were still spinning on their strings. Corrine tugged one loose. It was purple and red, so she knew that it had been Carrie's. _Everything_ of Carrie's had been purple and red, including the color of her face and the color of her draining blood when she had poisoned herself with that arsenic-laced doughnut.

With that, Corrine struck her match and set it ablaze, dropping it on a stack of paper and retreating down the stairs as the fire began to spread downward, leaving behind a single, dust-flecked tear.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Back downstairs, Corrine couldn't find Bart. He wasn't in the main hall chatting with guests, and he wasn't in the kitchen directing the servants on what to do. Was he still in the library? Was he still with _her_?

Then she saw him, and most of all, she saw his hand resting on her waist and his mouth pressed closely to her ear.

"Bart! Bart!"

"Corrine! Where are you?"

"I'm here!" Their eyes locked, and he came to her, running until he reached her and stopping only to briefly take her hand. "Go out one of the back entrances! I'm going to make sure the rest of the guests evacuate safely."

 _What about my mother?_ The thought flashed quickly through Corrine's mind, but almost instantly, it evaporated. She squeezed his hand and watched as he bolted over to the front entrance, yelling instructions and grabbing a servant to help him direct the guests to alternate exits. He was really quite something, Corrine noted, and with tears starting to brim at her ducts, she realized that she didn't know what she would ever do without him.

People started brushing by her then, screaming and shouting with the fear of God reflected in their eyes, and Corrine knew that she had to escape before all the exits were blocked by her guests. It wouldn't take long for the fire to spread through the wooden structures of the house.

As for her mother, Corrine thought, stealing away to an empty lounge and heading toward the sliding bookshelf, she didn't care _what_ happened to her. Perhaps someone would save her, and perhaps someone wouldn't. Her eyes flashing, Corrine smiled and silently prayed that everyone would forget about the lying, conniving hag who caused every ounce of misery that Corrine had ever experienced.

Running through the underground tunnels leading to the wide garden, Corrine wondered where Cathy and Chris went. Did they make it out safely? Did Bart show them how to get out? Oh, how she hoped they weren't still stuck inside the place they'd inhabited for so long yet were never able to see! How she prayed for them to get out and breathe the fresh night air that she herself had denied them!

Was that fair, then? Stepping out of the entrance and making her way to the front of the house, watching it blaze and burn, Corrine couldn't help but question her own motives. She couldn't bear the thought of letting her children burn down with Foxworth Hall, but she could justify her own _mother_ crumbling down in its ashes? Just as she criticized Cathy for wanting some vindictive revenge on her mother, now Corrine acted in spite and malice against the woman who gave birth to _her_?

"My mother! She's in there! She can't move!" Corrine couldn't help it; the words blurted out before she could even think. The woman _was_ her mother, and like Corrine always wanted from her own children, she wouldn't give up on her mother. Despite the vile, wicked things that she did, Olivia Foxworth gave birth to Corrine, and for that she should at least be grateful enough to save her life. Wouldn't Corrine ask the same of Cathy?

But as soon as she cried out, she spotted Bart at the door, freezing. Utter horror consumed Corrine as she saw Bart glance behind him back at the house, and before he could do anything, before she could lose him, Corrine darted forward.

She flicked off her heels and ran full speed ahead toward her husband, ignoring the mob of people crowded in front of her. Her eyes were trained solely on Bart, and as he moved forward to enter the mansion once more, Corrine flung herself in the air and crashed directly into him.

"What – Corrine?" Dazed, Bart sat up, and Corrine threw her arms around him, tears flooding her vision. She sobbed as she pulled him to her and held him tightly, and all the while, she was aware of everyone watching them and the too-close cackling of the fire. Also, she was aware of another person running past them and dashing into the burning house, but she frankly didn't care enough to even look.

"Don't go, Bart," she pleaded, straightening up and looking him straight in the eye. She grabbed his hand, hanging onto it. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me, Bart. I need you."

He held her gaze for a moment and then sighed, bowing his head and pulling her up with him. He wound his arm gently around her waist. "We need to get her out, Corrine. Tell the firefighters so they can –"

Before he could finish, the frame of the front doorway fell through and cascaded down onto the pavement, barely missing them. He pulled her off the cement and ushered her over to the grass, shouting something Corrine couldn't hear to a fireman before coming back to her side. She leaned against his chest and looked across the lawn at Cathy.

Those cerulean blue eyes were locked intensely with Corrine's matching pair, and Corrine felt a chill run down her spine. The look nestled in Cathy's eyes wasn't of hatred or of malice – it was of _gratitude._ Cathy was _grateful_ that Corrine had saved Bart; she was _thankful_ that he didn't dive into the seething flames to save her old, disabled grandmother who had whipped her and who had poured tar all over her long, silky blonde hair.

"Oh, Bart," she whispered, her thoughts and fears speaking aloud for themselves. He leaned in closer to hear what she would say, but she merely shook her head, her eyes now watching how Cathy clung to Chris's side and how she cuddled Jory close to her breast. "I don't know what to do."


	2. Ignited

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dollanganger Saga.**

 **A/N:** Hi there! Here's the next part of the story. I'm starting to get some ideas and plotlines going, and stay tuned for another confrontation between Corrine and her children in chapter 3! (Please note that I of course had to change some major plot events to make this scenario work, but I tried to make it as canon as I could. Of course this most likely wouldn't have worked anyway, but let's give it a chance and see what might have happened!)

* * *

 **Ashes on a Flame**

 **2**

 **Ignited**

After transforming the wild blaze of Foxworth Hall to a simmering flicker of ashes, the police finally approached them. As the officer walked toward them, his face grim and his cap low, Corrine leaned very close to Bart, their arms and their beating hearts linked together as one. The officer explained how the fire started in the attic and how Olivia and two of the servants had burned to death inside. Corrine blanched slightly at the revelation – partially out of guilt and partially out of disgust at the satisfaction she felt at hearing that her mother was dead – and it took everything in her power to act like the cool, calm, and collected Foxworth that she was always supposed to be. It didn't matter that her heart was in shambles and that everything in her head was spinning out of control; it didn't matter that Cathy had revealed her secret and that everything was going wrong.

"Do you have any idea who could have started it?" Bart asked, his voice low and level. He squeezed Corrine's hand just then, his fingers moving to stroke her palm, and she understood that he knew. He knew, and he would do everything he could to help her, despite all that she'd done. Even after discovering the truth, he was still protecting her; he was still _hers._

"We can conclude that it was definitely started by a match," the officer – Collins – answered, "but we don't know who started it. We did find the butler's body near the scene, so he may have been involved. Do you think he had any motive?"

"The butler?" Corrine repeated, utterly surprised. "Do you mean John Amos? He… _died_?"

Arriving at Foxworth Hall after the death of Corrine's brother Mal, John Amos had truthfully lived at Foxworth Hall almost as long as Corrine had. He was her mother's cousin and, as far as Corrine was concerned, completely crazy with his obsession of God and religion. He had followed her around when she was a child and always made her feel cornered, judged, tested – unnaturally coveted and wrongfully uncomfortable. She had been glad to escape him when she ran away with Christopher to Pennsylvania, and when she returned to Foxworth Hall twelve years ago, she discovered that nothing had changed.

It would make sense for John to linger around the house to save his cousin, for he and Olivia always had a strong, inexplicable bond. She was the one that insisted for him to stay with them at Foxworth Hall in the first place, and she was the one to eventually convince Malcolm of his "piety" and "wholeness." In fact, Olivia and John were so close that the old hag _did_ want him to inherit everything. She even amended her will to have John Amos inherit everything in the event of Corrine's death!

Then, comprehension suddenly dawned on Corrine – it was _John Amos_ who had run back into the house after Corrine had stopped Bart. Of _course_ he would do that. Corrine hadn't died, so he would have had no chance at inheriting Olivia's fortune! It was his last chance and only hope!

Also, Corrine realized, feeling a flash of guilt, he probably wouldn't have gone back if she hadn't cried out and then stopped Bart from doing so himself. Corrine was clearly never a fan of John Amos, but still, he _was_ family. For that, Corrine felt the slightest amount of grief. He might not have registered that Olivia was still trapped inside, and he might have survived. He would have been bitter, no doubt, but he would still be breathing and living.

 _Did I kill him, too?_ Tears threatened to spill from Corrine's eyes. Just as she had back in the house, she was starting to panic. _How many people have I killed? What's_ wrong _with me?_

"Yes," said Officer Collins, checking his report. "John Amos. Did you know him well?"

"He was my mother's cousin," Corrine replied, and then she stopped. An idea was forming in her head amidst the chaos and her delusions, and it was brilliant. And almost too simple. Why hadn't she thought of it before? It wasn't _exactly_ a lie. "He, well, I don't think…." She paused then for dramatic effect, casting a worried look at Bart, who merely stared at her. "Officer, I don't want to throw accusations around, but I'm aware that my mother listed John Amos as her heir in the event of my death. He's her only other living relative, so he was really the only person our family had left."

His eyebrows furrowing, Officer Collins pulled out his notepad and began to scribble furiously. "Did this Mr. Amos know about his inclusion in your mother's will?"

"Oh, most certainly." Bart nodded then and straightened his shoulders. "I drafted my mother-in-law's will myself, sir. John Amos, Corrine, Mrs. Foxworth, and I were all present, and the conditions were laid out clearly."

It was, in fact, the truth. Corrine's mother, hardened forever against the outside world, had insisted to guarantee that the Foxworth fortune would stay in her family in the event of there not being any living Foxworth children. Of course she had two perfectly healthy grandchildren to leave it all to in the event of Corrine's death (and now a beautiful great-grandchild and the Devil's spawn in tow), but they didn't exist. Even after all these years, they just simply didn't exist.

"Did he make any threats against you, ma'am? I'm, um, aware that there was quite a scene at your party, but did he try and harm you tonight?"

He didn't say it, and he didn't have to. Of course the gossip would have spread by now about how the beautiful dancer Catherine Dahl had crashed Corrine Winslow's party and wailed that she was her long-abandoned daughter. Bart had done the most brilliant job of smoothing things over, but Corrine worried that some wouldn't believe him. Old and distinguished guests had been in attendance tonight, and they were sharp enough to remember what Corrine had done thirty years ago and could only guess at what might have happened. Would they believe Cathy and question Corrine? Would that ruin everything Corrine had worked so hard for?

"Officer Collins," said Bart, eyeing Corrine softly before lowering his voice, "my wife has been through quite the shock tonight. I can tell that she's starting to get overwhelmed by everything, and I think it's best to let her be for right now. Do you think that would be alright?"

Oh, how charming Corrine's Bart was! How safe and protected he made her feel! She would have kissed him if she didn't remember what he said and feel again the sharp blow of the night's events, and she again couldn't be more thankful for him.

"I understand," Officer Collins replied, taking his final note before putting away his notepad. "This must be incredibly difficult for both of you. Thank you very much for the information. I'll be in touch as we get further into our investigation." He paused, his eyes sympathetic, to reach out and lightly brush Corrine's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Winslow. You have my and the department's deepest condolences."

It was all too easy. Moving to rest her hand on his shoulder briefly, her eyes pooling with partially genuine tears, Corrine smiled a sad smile and then nodded her head. Bart put his arm around her waist and shook the officer's hand with his other. If he seemed surprised or outraged by Corrine's plan, he certainly didn't show it.

"I don't know how you do it," he muttered to her when the officer left. She entwined her arm with his again, aware that Cathy was watching them. It was always Cathy who watched her every move. "I don't know how you do it, and I don't know what to think of it."

That hurt, Corrine could admit, but she wouldn't let it faze her. She had come too far. "I'm sorry you feel that way, darling, but I'm afraid we really don't have a choice."

And indeed he did know. Another condition weaved into first Malcolm's and then Olivia's will was that Foxworth money could never pass down to a non-blood relative. John Amos had at least been Olivia's blood relative, but Bart was simply an in-law. If Corrine went to prison or if she were put to death, he would never see one damn penny. Corrine was painfully aware that her own claim to the Foxworth fortune was at risk due to Cathy's little exposition, but for the moment, it didn't matter.

"Besides," Corrine added, hiding a smile as she tickled Bart's fingers, "we need that money to take care of your _baby_ , don't we?"

Out of all things, he wasn't expecting that. Corrine felt his hand drop and she turned to see him gaping at her, his brown eyes wide. "What?"

"I think we both know how this has to work." By now, Corrine was glaring directly at Cathy, whose blue eyes – the very same as Corrine's – were glowering back. "She wants you to divorce me and marry her, but you love me and don't want to leave. She probably threatened to leave you and never tell you about your child, so you're put into quite the dilemma. Am I correct?"

Again, Bart gaped. Even Cathy was frowning, aware that they must be talking about her. She still had her head rested on Chris's chest, and her baby was now pulling at her hair, crying. It seemed that even little ones could understand tension when it lived in the air.

"Corrine," Bart finally responded, "I understand how upset you must be, but –"

"No." Corrine stepped away from him then, her eyes cold. She couldn't help the shaking that now consumed her body. "No, Bart. You can't possibly understand. You may think or hope that you do, but you can't. This involves more than just you and Cathy and is something you can't possibly understand."

It was the truth. No one could truly understand what was happening. The house, Olivia, Bart, Cathy – Corrine was losing it all. But she _couldn't_! Not after everything she'd been through! Not after all those years of pretending and fighting! She'd sacrificed so much and came so far, and if it took her very last breath, Corrine Winslow was _not_ going to let everything slip out beneath her fingertips.

"We need to talk to them," Bart finally declared, his eyes – his brown, now uncertain eyes – trained onto hers. "We need to talk to them before everyone else does."

"Go get them, then," said Corrine, completely serious. "Tell her and Chris to meet us at that trashy diner outside of town." She paused to take one last look at Foxworth Hall, now a shadow of ashes in the bright glare of the full moon. "There's nothing left for any of us here."

* * *

I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think! :)


	3. Flare

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dollanganger Saga.**

 **A/N:** Hi, everyone! Here is the third installment with some mother-child action! I really do enjoy writing this story and exploring the head of a complicated character like Corrine. It's so fascinating and emotional!

To all my fellow Americans out there, Happy 4th of July! And to our Canadian neighbors, Happy Belated Canada Day!

* * *

 **Ashes on a Flame**

 **3**

 **Flare**

Since it was nearly three o'clock in the morning on Christmas Day, hardly anyone was eating at Franko's Family Diner. In fact, as Corrine and Bart walked into the place, followed by a disgruntled Cathy and a stoic Chris, the waitress wasn't too happy to greet them. Eyeing them harshly, she closed her book and sauntered up to them, her stained-white tennis shoes squeaking on the grimy tile flooring. Her behavior reminded Corrine of the way Cathy had sulked around the house when she was a child, and Corrine was tired and drained enough to almost start laughing out loud hysterically at the connection. Their entire situation was ridiculous, and it was taking everything in Corrine's power to keep it all together. Her mental state was quite fragile, to say the least.

"Hi," the waitress yawned, her eyes widening as she paused to take in everyone's attire. "Wow! Are y'all coming from a fancy party or something? What're y'all doing _here_?"

"A table for five, please," Bart said smoothly, flashing the waitress the most charming of his smiles. Corrine _loved_ his smile. "And could we please have a booster seat for the little one?"

"Why, you got it, mister," she said, clearly taken with him. Bart had that effect on people, and Corrine found it intriguing to see how other women reacted to him. Some grew flushed and breathless (like this pathetic girl was), and others were completely at a loss for words. Was this how Corrine herself made men feel, she wondered? Was this how _Cathy_ made them feel? Was that how she had seduced Bart?

"My name's Trudy and I'll be taking care of y'all tonight. Would y'all like a table or a booth? We obviously got tons of space…"

As the group made their way over to a booth in the farthest corner of the diner, Corrine finally looked over at Cathy. She was busy kissing Jory's face and rocking him, trying to soothe his pleas to go home to bed, and Corrine felt a strange sensation grip her heart.

She'd always known that Cathy was maternal. That was very evident since the twins were babies. But seeing Cathy love and comfort her own son made Corrine feel _empty_ inside. Corrine remembered how _she_ had comforted her little babies by quelling their fears and wishing them sweet dreams, and she realized that she had no one left to comfort and to hold. Oh, how she wished more than anything that she could do so now, to both Cathy and Chris and even little Jory! She would buy anything they needed and make any sort of threat completely disappear; she would do all of the things she should have done before!

But would Corrine ever get that chance? Would she ever get to know her grandson? Would she ever be able to simply _hold_ him?

They took their seats then, Corrine blinking rapidly. Naturally Cathy flocked close to Bart and sat down across from him, refusing to look at Corrine. Chris sat next to her, his eyes meeting Corrine's nervously, and Bart was at Corrine's side, his arm draped over her chair as casually as if they were at a dinner party.

"This place is… Nice," Bart commented, trying to cut through the thick layer of tension. Chris nodded and commented on the decorations, but Cathy just sat there, rocking Jory and staring down at her lap.

Was she embarrassed at what she had done? Grief-stricken from the accident? Still spiteful toward Corrine? There was no way to tell with Cathy, and Corrine felt rage of her own consume her heart. They wouldn't even _be_ in this situation if it wasn't for Cathy and her loose legs and spiteful heart, and now she had the audacity to not even _look_ at her mother? After all those years and all those letters? Nothing made any sense!

When the waitress brought over the booster seat, Corrine was nearest and took it from her. She had honestly completely forgotten about the booster seat and, wanting to get rid of the waitress as soon as possible, she put it on the chair on the end between her and Chris.

Almost as soon as she put it down, however, Cathy was there and snatched it away, her blue eyes cold as they finally met their counterparts.

"I'll take care of it, Mother," she practically hissed, moving the booster to the chair between her and Bart on the other side of the table. _The farthest seat away from me,_ Corrine realized, watching as Bart stood up to help Cathy strap Jory in. He spoke to the boy in a soft, affectionate voice, and Jory actually smiled at him, laughing weakly as Bart tickled him. It was clear that the two were close and familiar with one another, and the fact made Corrine want to cry. She wanted nothing more than to give Bart a child, but she couldn't. And he _knew_ that she couldn't! So he just went waltzing over to the first woman to lay eyes on him? He just abandoned their vows and did whatever hewanted?

Surprisingly, she found compassion in Chris's gaze as she looked across the table at him. He was watching her closely, as he had all evening, but there was something soft in his familiar blue eyes that warmed Corrine's heart. Her son had always been a kind, gentle boy, and even amidst all this chaos and turmoil, she could still rely on him to be there for her when no one else was. She couldn't expect him to instantly forgive her, but she could expect him to at least try to understand her. And quite honestly, that's all Corrine wanted from her children – an attempt at understanding. Was that too much to ask? Corrine honestly didn't know.

"So," said Bart, his gaze flickering between Cathy and Corrine, "I suppose we should get started here. What I'd like to say is –"

"What can I get y'all to drink?"

That dumb girl was back, her crooked teeth basically popping out of her mouth as she looked first at Bart and then at Chris. It would be difficult to discuss anything with her lurking around behind them, and Corrine could tell from Bart's demeanor that he thought so, too.

"We shouldn't have come here," Corrine murmured when Trudy had gone back to the kitchen. "She's never going to leave us alone. Shouldn't we go somewhere more secluded?"

"Why, so you can strike a match and burn us down, too?" Cathy fired, her eyes blazing. "That sounds like a marvelous idea, Mother! Shall we stop at the gas station for some gasoline?"

"Cathy, please," said Corrine, completely exasperated. Cathy always had the most stinging, back-handed remarks! "I'm just trying to make sense of all this. Can we just go to a hotel or something and talk everything through?"

"Mother?" said a smile voice. Everyone stopped and turned to Jory, whose brown eyes were wide with exhaustion and curiosity. "Momma, is this the same pretty lady from before? And is she _your_ Momma?"

Corrine's heart skipped a beat as she stared down at the boy, the spitting image of his father save the gentle features of his face – the gentle _Foxworth_ features. Would he grow up to be as wild and fiery as his dancing father? Or would he be kind and compassionate like his uncle and his grandfather? Would Corrine ever be able to see it? The uncertainty was complete and utter agony, and Corrine didn't know how much of it she could take!

"You must be tired, darling," said Cathy, swooping down to unbuckle Jory. Bart helped, and soon Jory was cradled in Cathy's arms again, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"I am, Momma, but what about the pretty lady? Who is she?"

"Shh," Cathy crooned, her eyes flicking worriedly up at Bart, who leaned forward to gently move the hair from Jory's eyes. Chris stiffened, and as Corrine turned to stare at him again, she guessed at what was happening.

Corrine wasn't a fool. She knew that there was something very strange going on between Christopher and Cathy, and it broke her heart to admit that it seemed that he was in love with her and that he cared too deeply for her child. But seeing the way Bart easily talked to Jory, it was clear that he was a more regular part of the boy's life than Chris was. He must have been going over there for months, so of course Jory had grown accustomed to his presence and would prefer him over the uncle he barely saw. As Corrine watched Bart clap the child on the shoulder and exchange a smile with Cathy, she knew that he was clearly a sort of father figure to Jory. Glancing back at Chris, Corrine also knew that her son felt replaced and rejected.

Without thinking and without meaning to, Corrine reached out and took her son's hand, her blue eyes brimming with tears as he started and stared over at her, his own eyes shocked, hurt, and confused – so very confused. Corrine could understand. Despite the evil things that she'd done, she could understand. And she _cared._ More than Christopher would ever know. She squeezed his hand and held his gaze, willing her love to pour out between them as it had when he was younger.

"Who are you?" Jory finally whispered in a sleepy tone, his one open eye trained on Corrine. "And why doesn't my Mommy like you?"

It was too much for Corrine. She wasn't ready to deal with this. Not yet, and perhaps not ever. Yet she had to. "Shh. Close your eyes and go to sleep now, Jory. Have sweet dreams."

That was it – the goodnight wishes she would never again be able to wish her children. Corrine's heart ached.

He did close his eyes, and after a few moments, Cathy whipped her head up to glare at her. Corrine had never seen eyes so cruel and so distant. "Don't you _dare_ talk to him! Don't you _dare_ pretend that you can _ever_ be a part of his life!"

"And why can't I?" Corrine finally snapped, exploding. She couldn't take it anymore. It was all too much. " _You're_ the one who followed _me_ here, Catherine Dollanganger. Surely you must want _something_! Is it the money? Is it my husband? Or now do you want all of my _dignity?_ Don't tell me you don't still care about me! I _certainly_ still care about you, despite what you've done! Tell me what you want! Just tell me!"

A cough and the clinking of glasses met Cathy's words, and the waitress was back, her buggy eyes moving from Cathy to Corrine as she passed out the drinks. This was trouble, Corrine _knew_ that it was trouble, but what else could they do? Where else could they go?

"Now," said the waitress, her eyes still switching from the two stunningly similar women, "what can I get y'all to eat? We got a Christmas special of country ham and eggs."

"That sounds delightful," Bart exclaimed, absolutely beaming. "I'll have an order of that. What about you, Corrine?"

He took her hand as he said that, much to the waitress's confusion (hadn't he just been helping Cathy with Jory?), but Corrine could barely speak. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm not very hungry."

"Nor am I." Cathy glared directly into the pits of Corrine's eyes. "I've lost my appetite."

"Look," said Corrine, pushing her barely touched cup of coffee away from her after Chris had ordered corned beef hash and pancakes, "this is getting out of hand. Cathy, whether you like it or not, we need to talk about this. We need to talk about _all_ of it, and you need to be adult enough to cooperate. We can't keep fighting like this."

"Me? Adult enough?" Cathy let out a laugh, a shrill, high-pitched laugh. It was a wonder that it didn't wake Jory! "I've been an adult since I've been twelve years old, mother. Because you _forced_ me to be! You _forced_ me to be Cory and Carrie's mother and grow up in that damn attic! If there's anyone who needs to be adult about this, mother, it's _you_. _You_ need to own up to what you've done and stop playing this ridiculous game of yours!"

"Cathy." It was Chris, and as Corrine opened her mouth to speak, more tears running down her cheeks, he shot her a silencing glance. "Stop it! She's right. We need to talk, and you need to calm down. God knows how fired up you get. Just think of where we are and what you're saying!"

Indeed, that nosy waitress was back, lingering off the side by Bart. "Is… Everything alright, mister?"

"Just fine," said Bart, though he'd lost most of his smile. "Just some good-natured holiday bickering. On second thought, we'll take our food to go, for it's getting late and the little guy needs to get home before Santa comes."

"I never should have agreed to come here," Cathy fumed, carefully placing Jory on her shoulder. "You haven't changed a single bit! It's always about _you_! It's always about how _we_ don't love _you_! But where the _hell_ have you been all these years, Mother? And how can we trust a single word that you say?"

"Because I've got nothing left!" Corrine whimpered, finally succumbing to her tears. It was pathetic, she knew, but she couldn't help it. "Can't you understand that, Cathy? It's all ruined! It's all gone! _You_ saw to that. But I have a plan, damn it!" Her eyes were wild, her voice high-pitched; she was losing control. "I have a plan, and I can fix it! Cathy, darling, I can fix it, and I can take care of you the way I never did!"

By this time, both the waitress and the two other diners were shamelessly gawking at them. Bart and Chris exchanged a long, hard look, and Bart took Cathy while Chris took Corrine. "Come on, Momma." He put his hand on the small of her back, and Corrine could smell a small trace of his cologne that stood out amongst the smoke. He smelled good, and he smelled _safe_. Corrine knew that she was safe with him. "Everything will be okay. We just need to get out of here."

"Do you promise?" Corrine felt like a child as she let her son help her out of her seat and stand up. He looked so much like his father that she couldn't stand it. She couldn't help but put her hands on his face and stare deep into his eyes. Corrine knew that he was her only hope. "Oh, Christopher, my darling Christopher, don't you know that I've never stopped loving you? That I've never stopped loving _all_ of you?"

He didn't answer, but he didn't have to. His eyes grew red and moist, and he took her hand, holding it tight. Corrine was aware that Bart was helping Cathy up while whispering softly in her ear, but she didn't care about him. She only cared about her babies, and at least one of them understood her.

The waitress brought out their food, still staring, and Bart handed her a hundred dollar bill. The group then left, Chris and Corrine in the front with Bart and Cathy in the back, and Corrine had a sickening feeling bubbling deep inside her stomach.

She knew that her plan could work and that she indeed _could_ fix everything, but it all depended on Cathy. She needed her full cooperation and effort, but that was proving to be horribly difficult. Of course Cathy hated her and of course she didn't trust her, but couldn't she trust Bart? Money or no money, Bart would never hurt her. It was clear that he cared about Corrine's daughter in a way no wife should ever witness, and it was clear that Cathy cared about him, too. And then there was Chris who cared about Cathy, and it was all so intense and so confusing that Corrine almost fainted right there on the spot.

"We can all meet at Cathy's house," Chris said, helping Corrine into his car. He opened the door and put his hand on her back, but Corrine stopped. She was confused and looked at Bart, wondering why she wasn't with him, but he merely gazed at her, shaking his head slightly. Was this part of his plan? Was he trying to gain Cathy's trust?

"How can you even _think_ about inviting her over to _my_ house!" Cathy stormed, charging over to them and sticking her head close to Chris's face. "What are you thinking? Why are you still defending her? We're not children anymore, Christopher! We don't have to feel obligated to defend her!"

"Momma," said Jory, moving his arms and opening his eyes, focusing on Corrine. He yawned slightly, but his little face was focused. "Where are we, Momma? Did Santa come? Why is the pretty lady still here?"

"We're going home now, Jory," said Cathy fiercely, shifting so he couldn't see Corrine. "Bart's coming too, and so is Uncle Chris. Isn't that nice?"

"Is she coming?" Jory craned his neck so that he was staring at Corrine again. His eyes were soft, and Corrine felt her heart stir with a strange kind of affection for the boy. "Do you wanna come celebrate Christmas with us? I like you, and I want you to be with us."

"Yes," said Bart, coming over to take Jory from Cathy. She hesitated, her eyes still glaring at Corrine, but she finally let him go, dropping her gaze. "Everyone's coming over to watch you open your presents and then watch you dance with Mommy. We're just going to get your car seat from Uncle Chris's car and then we'll be home."

He was so good with children, and he would make an excellent father. More tears flowed from Corrine's eyes as she ducked into Chris's car and waited for him to start it up, aware that he was still outside arguing with Cathy. After all these years, the moment finally came; Corrine was finally reunited with her children. Hadn't she dreamed of this very moment, anticipating their anger but even more so awaiting their forgiveness and their love? Hadn't she practiced what she would say to Bart and worked out how she could possibly keep the inheritance?

Nothing had gone according to her plans, and now Corrine had to make new ones. As she felt the car bounce and looked over at Chris, who started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot without a single word, Corrine knew that she had to think of a new, better plan. She wasn't as stupid and clueless as everyone thought she was. She was a _Foxworth,_ as were her children, and she would find a way out of this mess.

Staring out the window and gazing up at the descending full moon, Corrine promised herself that she would fix _everything,_ no matter what she had to do. This time, she would get it right.

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Hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think!


	4. Simmer

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dollanganger Saga.**

 **A/N:** Hi everyone! I'm really sorry about the delay on this story. I've been so busy with work and school since I first started it, but I had most of this chapter saved from the summer, so I thought I'd update and get the story going again :) I will update as soon as I can, and please let me know what you think of Corrine's little plan! Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Ashes on a Flame**

 **4**

 **Simmer**

"So, that's it?" Chris was staring at her, his jaw locked tightly and his blue eyes unreadable.

"That's it," Corrine answered, her blue eyes trained intently on his. She was waiting for his reaction, his opinion, his _judgment,_ and she would wait for it as long as was necessary. All she wanted was to hear her son comment on her plan that would fix everything she had ever done wrong and that would make their situation disappear completely, and she would wait forever.

"Do you really think that can work, Bart?" Ignoring his mother, Chris looked directly at Bart, his blue eyes business-like and his voice low and steady. Even though Chris must resent Bart for reasons Corrine can only begin to imagine, it was clear that he still respected the man. Who _wouldn't_ respect Bart, Corrine wondered? Who _wouldn't_ understand that Bart was the crucial ingredient to getting out of this mess cleanly?

Bart nodded, and a long, painful silence ensued. Corrine could hear Jory sleeping peacefully on the sofa a few feet away, probably dreaming of sugar plums, and she could almost hear both Chris and Bart's minds reeling in their skulls, trying desperately to take in and evaluate her plan. She just hoped it would be enough for both of them, and she wished more than anything that Cathy would respond, though she sat motionless on her wooden chair on the other end of the room. Oh, the agony of it all!

"So, even after all this time, you're still going to deny us." Chris finally raised his eyes to meet Corrine's, and she felt every fiber of her heart melt with guilt and pain as she took in the raw hurt splashed across his face. "Illegitimate children of your first late-husband/half-uncle, conceived in vain and born in shame? Hidden away and paid off by our father only to resurface after the death of our mother?"

"If only our mother _were_ dead," Cathy spat from the corner, her eyes lifting to pierce daggers at Corrine. "If only we _could_ wake up from a bad dream to a cousin with warm, welcoming arms! Do you know anyone like that, Mother? Do you have a cousin that would actually _want_ us?"

Oh, how Corrine's heart was wrenched from her chest and thrown outside to the blazing blizzard lurking beyond the walls! Chris merely snorted at Cathy's outburst, his face down and now examining a loose thread on his sleeve, and Cathy was back to sitting perfectly still in her corner, though her face was up and her eyes were still glued to Corrine's. Bart seemed to be the only one not shaken from the revelation of Corrine's plot, and with the last flame of hope flickering from Corrine's heart, it was all she could do to mutter "I give up" and bury her face in her arms, wondering when the lawyers would arrive to take away her fortune.

"Now, Cathy, let's be reasonable." That was Bart, and even without looking at him, Corrine could see the hard line his mouth formed and the crease at his brow. "I told you I would work on finding a solution, and it seems like Corrine has the perfect fix."

It _was_ perfect, Corrine thought, momentarily admiring her own stroke of genius. Per conditions set in Malcolm's will, it was forbidden for Corrine to have had children with her half-uncle and with any other man, but it _wasn't_ forbidden for _Christopher_ to have had children. And, taking a look at Christopher Sheffield in comparison to Christopher Foxworth, was there any question that they were father and son? Seeing how similar Corrine had resembled her half-uncle and how similar Cathy resembles her brother, would there be any contest as to how they both were Foxworths and how Corrine is their true cousin?

"It _will_ work," Corrine said quietly, lifting her head and smoothing back her hair. She could barely keep her eyes open, and she felt her entire body ache. "You don't know society like I do. Even if it were hard to believe, they would absolutely _die_ for it to be the truth! Can't you understand how happy they would be that my husband was unfaithful to me and had children with another woman? Can't you see how they'll mock me and ridicule me for not having kept a closer eye on the husband for whom I deserted my family and its fortune?"

Chris lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes narrowing and watching hers closely, and even Cathy looked her way and wore an expression torn between smug and uncertain. They were starting to understand, and that was all Corrine needed. The rest would fall into place like a set of dominos.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Indeed it _did_ work.

"So, if I'm following this correctly," said Chris slowly, "This story would be enough to keep us on as heirs of the Foxworth fortune while still preserving the conditions of the will? Namely, you won't be violating any hidden encryptions?" Corrine cringed at the way he had put it so crudely and so matter-of-fact, but she nodded, her eyes boring into his and praying that he would understand and accept.

"Exactly," she said, her nods gaining intensity as she saw Cathy shift in her seat, looking torn. "Can't you see how perfect it'll be? You'll be welcomed back to the mansion as true relatives that have every right to be there! You can come back into my life and stay since everyone will think it so generous and kind for me to take in my long-lost relatives and to treat and love them like my own children, despite the circumstances of their birth!

"You can be showered with money and showered with fame and no one would ever be the wiser! I can get you your very own clinic working with any doctor in the state, Chris! And Cathy," Corrine continued, her voice wild again as it had been back in Foxworth Hall, "we can remodel your studio and can snag you the best students of Virginia. _Everyone_ will be so _fascinated_ to meet the new Foxworth royalty, so you'll probably have to hold auditions to sort through all the applicants!"

In Corrine's mind, everything was perfect. Everything lined up, and everything would ride out smoothly. There was really nothing to be afraid of and no reason to feasibly doubt the plan, but for some reason, both of her children remained silent, their eyes avoiding hers very deliberately.

"What is it?" she dared to ask, feeling herself growing more frustrated than she probably should have been. "What have I done now? I found a way to _fix_ this. I've found a way to finally get everything to where it needs to be."

"I can tell you what's wrong, Mother." That was Chris, and as Corrine tilted her head attentively toward him, she was startled to see such frigid daggars staring over at her. "I was hoping you would find some heart and claim us as your own, but I see that didn't. Even after all these years, greed still blinds your eyes."

"Chris," Corrine croaked, reaching out for his hand and moving it back when her son pulled it away. "Oh, Chris, please understand! I want to keep everything I have, and this is the only way!"

"That's exactly the problem!" Cathy broke her silence and stood up this time, her eyes matching the intensity of her brother's. "We don't want your money, Mother! All we've ever wanted was _you_!"


End file.
